Owls in the Impala
by BatTitan
Summary: The new hunter who has joined the Winchesters is, in Dean's words, "a weird little midget with a cool scar." A collection of oneshots that take place anytime between Seasons 4 through 8 of Supernatural and after the seventh book of Harry Potter.
1. Radio

**Radio**

* * *

Sam's not sure how to feel about the new hunter tagging along with him and Dean.

The messy-haired young man with the vibrant green eyes is intuitive and clever and a _brilliant_ hunter, no doubt there, but he's also oddly clueless about tiny things.

"Dude, it's a _cellphone_. How the hell do you not have one?" Dean demands, waving the device in one hand while driving the Impala with the other, and Harry simply blinks those huge green eyes back at him, bewildered.

"I didn't need one back in London." Not to mention that accent, which reminds Sam far too much of a certain British thief, is seriously driving the taller Winchester insane.

"Didn't need - how do you not need a _cellphone_?!" Dean protests.

Harry shrugs as he brushes his bangs out of his face and Sam gets a glimpse of that weird lightning scar on his forehead. "Just didn't, mate."

"Quit calling me that!" Dean scowls and switches on the radio. Harry flinches in the backseat of the Impala as Led Zeppelin blares from it.

"Bloody hell, what _is_ that?!" he cries as he fumbles to cover his ears and Sam can't help but laugh as Dean proclaims that Harry has never lived until now.

Maybe he would get used to this kid, after all.

* * *

**I know, this one's really short, but the next one's longer. I'll write a Harry-meets-the-Winchesters one eventually, I swear. This is j****ust a fun little oneshot I thought up while rereading the Harry Potter series. And since I hadn't ventured into Supernatural fanfiction yet, I thought I'd give it a go.**

**Let me know what you think, since I'm definitely considering writing more in the SuperPotter 'verse. I suspect I'll have to turn this into a multi-drabble fic at some point.**


	2. Revelations

**Revelations**

* * *

Dean doesn't notice when Harry suddenly freezes up and stares at an invisible point in space. The kid does it often, constantly taking in his surroundings, and Dean's not too worried about some strange hunter he's only just met.

He _does,_ however, notice when Harry mutters in a low voice for Dean and Sam to run.

"Why?" Dean demands, raising an eyebrow. There's no one else in the picnic area they had stopped at to stretch their legs.

Sam looks up from the huge tome he's peering over, his long hair flopping into his face. "What is it, Harry?" he asks, sounding much less irritable than Dean. Dean silently curses his little brother's infinite patience.

"Dementors," Harry snarls and for the first time, Dean's actually intimidated by the midget in glasses.

Then Dean feels it - a sharp coldness unlike anything he's ever felt, penetrating into his very soul. His vision goes blurry. Sam gasps suddenly from beside him, clearly feeling the same symptoms, and he immediately reaches for his brother, grabbing his shoulder.

_"Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Now, Dean, go!"_

Is that Dad's voice? What's Dad doing in a picnic area off the highway when he's technically ash in some clearing off another highway?

Dean's grasp tightens on Sam's shoulder and he feels Sam shudder, but then Harry shouts some strange words - Latin? - and the cold dissipates as a bright white light flashes around them.

"You two all right?" Dean blinks and the world shimmers back into focus. Sam is pale and shaking, his arms wrapped around his Sasquatch frame, and Dean draws his hand back from Sam's shoulder, not wanting to hover.

Harry's eyes are wide with concern as he glances between the brothers. He extends something out to Dean and Dean takes it before realizing that it's a chocolate bar. He raises an eyebrow at the kid, who shrugs.

"It helps."

Dean tears the wrapper off and bites into the chocolate bar, feeling immensely better as warmth floods his body. He sees Harry offer Sam another chocolate bar and vaguely wonders if Harry is friends with Gabriel. The two midgets would get along, what with their similar heights and fondness for sweets.

"The hell was that?" Dean manages and Harry gives him a weary smile.

"Dementors. We usually only get them in England. Can't imagine why one's in the States, but there you are." He shoots a stern look at Sam, who is staring at the chocolate bar as if it's poisonous. "Sam, eat the bloody chocolate, a little sugar won't destroy your rabbit-diet."

Sam obediently eats the chocolate and a little color returns to his cheeks, but he goes pale again in the next second as he raises his free hand and points at the space next to Harry. Dean gapes at the silvery shape of a stag, which is slowly vanishing into thin air, and Harry sighs long-sufferingly.

"Well, I 'spose you both had to find out sooner or later. Hello, my name's Harry Potter and I'm a wizard."

Dean topples off the picnic bench.

* * *

**Well, this wasn't as fun as the first oneshot_, _because Dementors, but you get the gist of how I want these drabbles to go. ****Let me know what you think!**


	3. Candy

**Candy**

* * *

It turns out Harry and Gabriel _have_, in fact, met in the past, and just as Dean predicted, they get along fabulously, bonding over their love of sweets and pranks.

"Y'know, they've got these new mini-treacle tarts over in Honeydukes that are _awesome_," Gabriel informs Harry. The archangel makes it a priority to drop in unannounced at Bobby's house whenever the Winchesters - with or without Castiel - stop by.

"You're joking." Harry is ecstatic when Gabriel merely hands a sample of said treat over as proof, grinning widely. Harry pops the treacle tart into his mouth without hesitation.

"How do you know each other again?" Dean sighs, annoyed. Now that Gabriel knows of Harry's presence, he'll find more excuses to harass the Winchesters.

"Used to be his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in his seventh year," Gabriel supplies easily.

"Mind you, it was technically my eighth year," Harry corrects, adding bitterly, "Had to take seventh off to go hunt bloody Horcruxes."

"_What_-cruxes?" Dean raises his eyebrows, grinning.

Sam sees where Dean's going and stops his train of thought immediately with all the effectiveness of the wet blanket that Dean suspects - no, _knows_ - he is. "Don't even go there, Dean."

"Aww, but Sammy..." Dean groans goodnaturedly.

"Dean. _No_."

"Joykill."

Gabriel snorts as he hands Harry another sample of treacle tart, which the wizard cheerfully eats. "Got some stuff from Zonko's for you, too." Harry's eyes light up as he catches the small bag the archangel tosses him and begins rummaging through the contents.

"Great, now we can _prank_ Lucifer back into the Pit," Dean snarks.

Harry successfully yanks out a Fanged Frisbee, grinning mischievously, and the older Winchester wisely shuts up.

* * *

**I like the idea of Harry and Gabriel getting along, so Gabriel will most likely return eventually. If anyone's got ideas, too, please don't hesitate to send them in, I'd love to hear what you think should happen.**

**Let me know how it's going!**


	4. Pizza

**Pizza**

* * *

"And why should I even consider giving you my ring?" Death asks coolly. Dean swallows, his throat dry. Really, who can blame him for being nervous? He's sitting across from Death - the _h__orseman _- in an abandoned pizzeria during the biggest storm of the century.

"Because I asked for it." Both hunter and horseman turn to see Harry reaching for a slice of pizza over Death's shoulder. Death smacks his hand away.

"Who in the universe do you think you are, boy?"

"Oh, right, we haven't actually met face-to-face. Hello, I'm Harry Potter." Harry gives Death a winning smile and Dean wonders what effect Harry's name is supposed to have over a being older than most of the universe.

He doesn't expect Death to stand suddenly, his dark eyes widening. Dean winces at the screech Death's chair makes as it scrapes roughly against the hard linoleum floor.

"_You_!" Death points accusingly at Harry, who blinks innocently back at him.

"Don't tell me he pranked you, too," Dean groans, remembering the Stink Pellets he's still finding scattered all over the bottom of his duffel bag.

"Worse." Death looks like he's swallowed something sour.

"I'm his master," Harry informs Dean cheerfully and the older Winchester stares back at him, bewildered.

"His _what_?! How the hell did you manage that?!"

Harry simply shrugs. "Has to do with the whole Horcrux-Hallow story."

Dean still hasn't gotten all the details on Harry's year on the run, so he simply accepts Harry's excuse.

"Blasted Peverell descendant. Snapping my lovely Elder Wand, dropping my Resurrection Stone, and now this," Death grumbles as he tugs off his ring and gives it to Harry. Harry tucks it into his pocket, grinning widely.

"Much appreciated."

"Can I at least have my Cloak back?" Death asks plaintively.

Harry looks so scandalized at the very thought that Death drops the issue.

* * *

**Because you _know_ this was a mandatory drabble to do**. **I will definitely write a Harry-meets-Crowley one soon, because it must be done.**

**Hope you're enjoying the fic so far!**


	5. Friends

**Friends**

* * *

Sam is researching, as he is wont to do whenever he, Harry, and Dean catch some spare time. He closes a window on tulpas and moves on to shapeshifters, which he spends a good fifteen minutes brushing up his lore on. Dean is busy singing classic rock loudly in the shower.

"Sam." He ignores Harry. "Sam, I'm bored." He knows better than to give in to Harry's boredom. Terrible things happen when Harry is bored and drags others into it. "Saaaaaam."

"Go pray to Gabriel and bother him, if you want," Sam tells him shortly.

"But he's _busy_," Harry complains, propping his sock-covered feet up on the table next to Sam's laptop. Sam shoves Harry's feet away and they land on the floor with a heavy thunk. Harry winces and rubs his aching feet. "I'm _bored_, Sam."

"Well, what do you want_ me_ to do about it?" Sam demands, exasperated, when suddenly, the motel room door flings open.

"OWLS IN THE IMPALA!"

A lanky red-haired young man about Harry's age comes running in, flailing his arms like a giant pinwheel. He could give Sam a run for his money in the height department, which Sam absently notes even as he draws his gun, startled.

"OWLS IN THE IMPALA!" The newcomer stops inches from Harry, breathing hard with wide blue eyes. "Thought you ought to know."

He then proceeds to dramatically crumple onto the floor.

Harry falls off his own chair, laughing hysterically at the flawless impression of Professor Quirrell. "Good one, Ron!"

Ron sits up, grinning, and mock-bows, which is rather difficult to do when one is sitting on the floor.

Dean chooses then to open the bathroom door and peek out, wearing only a pair of jeans and a towel around his neck. "Did someone say there are owls in my baby again?" he growls. "That's it, Potter. Messengers or not, I'm cooking them and eating them."

* * *

**I just had this random idea of Ron popping in to check on Harry's hunting life every now and then and curing Harry's boredom. Not sure how much of Harry's wizarding life to introduce into the hunting world, but I'm counting on you all to let me know when too much is too much.**

**I hope you enjoyed it!**


	6. Anniversary

**Anniversary**

* * *

"Where's Harry?" Sam asks no one in particular curiously as he makes his way down the stairs of Bobby's house, frowning when he can't see the wizard anywhere. He's not sure whether to be amused or worried when Dean steps out of the kitchen, wearing a faded apron and covered in flour.

"Pie," Dean supplies simply and Sam nods, saying no more. "The midget's out on the porch, by the way." Dean jabs a thumb at the front step and Sam nods, heading in that direction. "Hey, Sammy?" Sam turns to his brother, who clears his throat awkwardly. "Just, uh...happy birthday."

Sam's throat inexplicably tightens with emotion - Dean hasn't remembered his birthday in _years_ - and he just barely manages to nod. "Thanks, Dean."

"Don't get all dewy-eyed on me, bitch." Dean waves him off with a roll of his eyes.

"Fine, _jer__k_," Sam returns the half-hearted insult with such familiarity that he dares to hope that they're getting back to how they had been before all the crap with the seals and the demon blood and the start of the Apocalypse. Knowing not to push his luck with Dean just yet, though, he goes to the front door, opening it and finding his subject - one Harry James Potter - sitting on the top step with a mug of lukewarm tea in his hands.

Harry is staring into space, seemingly unaware of his surroundings, but he turns and smiles lightly at Sam as the taller man takes a tentative step forward.

"Hello, Sam." He sounds much less hyper than Sam is used to, his tone solemn and melancholy despite the smile on his face.

"Hey. Mind if I join you?" Harry simply shrugs one shoulder and Sam takes it as an invitation, sitting down beside Harry. "What's up with you?"

Harry shakes his head. "Not your concern, don't worry. I hear it's your birthday. Many happy returns."

Sam smiles. "Thanks. But don't change the subject, Harry. Why're you out here alone?"

"...it's just...today's the twelve-year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts." Harry looks uncomfortable revealing the information.

Sam doesn't know much about Harry's past yet, but he knows this battle is a painful memory for the wizard. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's technically a cause for celebration in the wizarding world." Harry smiles wryly. "At least, it is for those who weren't in the fight."

"But you were," Sam notes and Harry nods.

"Most others see the battle as the day I destroyed Voldemort. I see it as the day he died and took a lot of good people with him." Harry's green eyes are dull with old grief and weariness, and Sam can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy. How often had he seen that look in his own father's eyes when growing up? John had always grieved for Mary, and after more than twenty years of hunting, the misery and exhaustion had taken its toll.

Unsure what else to do, Sam places a hand on Harry's shoulder and the smaller man smiles slightly.

"You ought to be celebrating your birthday, though, mate. Not listening to me angst."

Sam scoffs. "I think the last time I celebrated my birthday, I was, like...twelve." He nudges Harry. "C'mon back in. I think Dean's trying to make pie, so we'd better stop him before he sets the kitchen on fire."

"Bobby will _murder_ him if he does," Harry says with a snort as he gets to his feet, grateful for the distraction as he follows Sam inside.

Barely minutes later, Harry uses a simple _Aguamenti_ to put out the fire Dean inadvertently starts, wondering how apples could be flammable. Memories of the battle are far from his mind as he and Sam laugh at the disgruntled expression on the older Winchester's face.

* * *

**I know, this is a serious one, and I'm sorry. I just feel for both Harry and Sam because Sam's birthday coincides with the Battle of Hogwarts. Poor babies.** **Plus I wanted to add some variety by branching out from humor.**

**Let me know how it is! I'd love feedback!**


	7. Saltshaker

**Saltshaker**

* * *

Harry has always been a prankster at heart. After all, Sam knows Harry is descended from one of the legendary Marauders of Hogwarts and is rather proud of that heritage.

So Sam supposes he really shouldn't be surprised when Dean roars in rage one morning.

"HARRY!"

"Yeeees?" Harry inquires as he pokes his head into the kitchen with a grin that wouldn't look out of place on the Cheshire Cat from _Alice in Wonderland_.

"_Explain_," Dean growls, jabbing his finger at the plate of eggs he had meant to consume.

Sam sees the problem right away; the eggs are covered in a large snowy mound of white crystals. The saltshaker is missing its bottom, and all the salt has spilled out of it onto Dean's breakfast.

"Salt?"

Dean shoots his brother an unimpressed look at the observation. "Yeah, college boy. _Salt_." He returns his glare to Harry, whose green eyes are wide with innocence.

Both Winchesters know better.

"Well, I figured you rather like salt, being a hunter and all, so..." Harry trails off when Dean's eyes narrow further.

"You're dead, Potter." Harry yelps and makes a run for it as Dean chases him out of the kitchen, brandishing his fork as a weapon. Sam shakes his head and returns to his own French toast.

Dean comes back after five minutes, looking disappointed.

"The midget is _fast_," he informs Sam as he collapses into his seat, poking mournfully at the salty eggs. "He ran into the panic room before I could stop him." Sam snorts and Dean's about to open his mouth to berate him when the rustle of feathers catches both their attentions.

Castiel stares at the white pile of salt on Dean's plate, his mouth half-open in confusion and curiosity. "Is it normal for one's breakfast to be saturated with salt?"

"Harry pranked Dean," Sam supplies and Castiel nods contemplatively before reaching over Dean's shoulder. He grabs the fork and knife and, much to the brothers' surprise, cuts a piece of the salty egg before popping it into his mouth and chewing.

Dean makes a strangled noise of disgust when Castiel looks pleased by the taste and reaches for another piece.

* * *

**This is half-inspired by what happened to me at breakfast this morning. I was all miserable when I woke up because Mom woke me up by shouting - which of course gave me a minor heart attack and I was all sulky - so when I went down to eat my eggs, I picked up the saltshaker and the bottom had been accidentally loosened, so ALL the salt came pouring out the bottom onto the table in this fluffy white pile.**

**I was in so much shock that I just stared at it, making this weird choked noise, and my dad came in, took one look at my situation, and burst out laughing. Mom soon joined in.**

**I'm living in a bloody conspiracy.**


	8. Slash

**Slash**

* * *

Dean wishes he could simply eat his burger in peace, but no such luck is upon him today. After all, he is a Winchester, and by definition, a Winchester is incredibly unlucky._  
_

Instead, Dean gets a - dare he say it - _pretty_ fallen angel staring at him with intense blue eyes that can only be classified as inhuman (which, of course, they technically are) and a snarky British wizard staring at said angel with his own set of intense _green_ eyes.

"The hell are you guys _doing_?!" Dean demands and Castiel tilts his head, not even blinking at the hunter's outburst. Now _that_ is just plain creepy, given that he hasn't blinked at all in the past ten minutes. "You're _staring_ at me, Cas! You promised you'd stop doing that!"

"I...was unaware I was doing so. My apologies, Dean." Castiel dutifully averts his gaze to the wall.

"And _you_! Midget!" Dean points at Harry, who raises an eyebrow. "The hell are _you_ doing?"

"Watching Castiel stare at you."

"_Why_?" Dean huffs, exasperated, as he goes for a sip of his soda.

"Well, I wanted to confirm a theory of mine. But since I've got your attention, I might as well ask you directly. Are you two shagging?"

Dean chokes on his soda and immediately begins coughing. Castiel pats his back until the coughing fit ceases, which really doesn't help Dean's growing discomfort.

"I mean, it was just an idea based on the amount of blatant eyesex you two have on a regular basis. Seriously, anyone could've made that assumption. In fact, many people _have_. You ought to see the _Supernatural_ books' fan forum about it. I think they're calling the pairing 'Destiel,'" Harry continues cheerfully, oblivious to Dean's horror, but Castiel, for once, seems to catch on to it. He's not sure what exactly Harry is referring to, but he has a feeling he doesn't want to know. Anyway, they have more pressing matters.

"Er...Harry?"

"Yeah, Cas?" Harry blinks over at him.

"I believe Dean has stopped breathing."

"Ooh. That can't be good."

"I should think not." Dean lets his forehead hit the table with a satisfying thunk.

So much for his peaceful lunch.

* * *

**Aww, Dean just wants to eat his lunch, Harry. Oh, well. Destiel cannot be avoided.** **I'm pretty sure Sabriel is on the way as well.**

**Let me know how it's going!**


	9. Internet

**Internet**

* * *

The Internet, Sam decides, is a very scary place.

It has become even more frightening due to the fact that Harry Potter has discovered the _Supernatural _book series written by Chuck and, by default, the fan forums that go with said books.

"Sam, I don't want to alarm you, but it says here that some people pair you and Dean and call it 'Wincest.'" Harry looks up from the laptop screen, seemingly traumatized.

"Yeah, I know." Sam grimaces, not bothering to offer more reaction than that; he's relatively used to the fandom's insanity by now, especially after that ridiculous convention he and Dean had been tricked into attending.

"They _do _know the muttonheads are _brothers_, right?" Gabriel asks from where he's lounging on Sam's bed, eating Skittles by the handful. Sam gives him a mild glare for eating on his bed, but says nothing else. He's used to the trickster archangel's presence too much by this point to argue.

"Doesn't seem to matter, apparently." Harry scrolls further down before paling. "Dear Merlin, they've got _fan art_!"

"What?!" Sam chokes and Gabriel disappears from the bed, popping into existence behind Harry and peering over the wizard's shoulder at the laptop screen.

He whistles, impressed. "Whoa, Sammy, looks like the fangirls have a _very_ high opinion of how well-endowed you are!" Sam is in too much shock to react to even the nickname, let alone the cheeky wink Gabriel throws his way after speaking.

"I wouldn't laugh too soon, mate," Harry warns Gabriel as he opens a new thread on the forum. "Says here that some people ship Sam and _you_. 'Sabriel,' they call it."

Rather than looking horrified, Gabriel only grins delightedly while Sam collapses off his chair in a dead faint.

* * *

**Yep. It had to happen directly after the Destiel one. I swear, Gabriel and Harry are so much fun to write. Their bromance is the stuff of legend. _Legend_, I say.**


	10. Demons

**Demons**

* * *

"Sam!" Dean yelps as he walks into the motel room and sees Harry and Crowley sitting across from each other, the demon nursing an ever-present glass of scotch and the wizard twirling a bottle of butterbeer (which Dean is disappointed to say does not actually contain alcohol, though Harry insists it's good for getting house-elves drunk).

"I know," Sam sighs from his bed, where he's researching on his laptop. "He won't go away."

"Your hospitality is touching," Crowley snarks.

Dean scowls. "I'm warning you, Crowley, one wrong move..." He holds up his flask of holy water and Crowley tips his glass in surrender.

"Yes, yes, all right. I just heard about your delightful new companion, thought I'd stake out the territory for myself." The demon nods to Harry.

"You never told me the King of Crossroads was British!" Harry says cheerfully to Dean, who stares at the wizard.

"Scottish," Crowley grumbles. Harry dismisses it with a shrug. "I 'spose you went to Hogwarts, then? Gryffindor?" Harry nods. "Figures."

"You know about Hogwarts?" Dean asks blankly.

"'Course I do. Got bloody expelled from the place." Crowley scowls even as Dean's jaw drops to the floor. "I mean, seriously, it's not _my_ fault, the death of the stupid Mud-"

"Oi," Harry warns sharply, going for his wand.

"_Muggleborn_," Crowley corrects hastily. "She found the Chamber of Secrets, 'course the girl got herself killed. Never mind that I only told her how to get in, that apparently counts as murder. They snapped my wand and everything," he adds mournfully.

Dean decides it's better not to know. His head's starting to hurt from the new information about Crowley, as it is.

* * *

**For those who are confused as to why Crowley wasn't in Azkaban, he ran away and disguised himself as a Muggle tailor after he was expelled. His son hated him out of jealousy because he was born a Squib.**

**...shh. Just go with it. I'm making it up as I go.**


	11. Devil

**Devil**

* * *

Harry's first meeting with Lucifer is beyond bizarre.

Sam and Dean are back at the motel, researching, and Harry has been volunteered - or rather, forced - to retrieve food from the local diner for all three of them. Like the good friend he is, though, Harry obliges - albeit with much grumbling - and walks the three blocks from the motel to the diner.

As he places a to-go order of two double-cheeseburgers, two slices of freshly-baked apple pie, and a salad for Sam, he absently brushes his bangs out of his eyes and muses that he should probably get a haircut.

"Hmm. So _that's_ what the famous scar looks like."

Harry spins around, not going for his wand just yet, and sees a very plain-looking man with light hair and cold blue-gray eyes in front of him. He looks more suited to working in a backyard garden rather than standing in a dingy diner in the middle of nowhere.

"Hello, Harry Potter. I don't believe we've met." Lucifer tilts his head, much like Castiel normally does, and the similarity in gestures makes bile rise in Harry's throat.

"Well, you're much better-looking than the last psychopath I had to deal with. At least you've got a nose," the wizard returns casually as he turns to pick up his order from the cashier. He pays her and gives her a polite smile before turning and walking past Lucifer.

He's halfway back to the motel when Lucifer materializes in front of him again.

"Bugger off, Satan, I'm busy." Harry moves to step around Lucifer, who blocks his path and crosses his arms.

"Sorry, but you're not going anywhere. At least not until you tell me where Sam Winchester is."

"Sam?" Harry raises an eyebrow. He's heard enough of Sam's complaints to know not to give in to Lucifer's request, but he hadn't expected Lucifer to be quite so..._blunt_ about it.

"Yes. We need to talk, and he's been very rudely avoiding me." Lucifer rolls his eyes, as if _Sam_ is the evil one in this twisted relationship.

"Yeeeeeah. No." Harry glares back at him. "I know what you're up to, and Sam won't say 'yes' to you. So stop _nagging_ him already, for the love of Merlin."

"But you're wrong, Harry." Lucifer smiles and Harry suppresses the shudder that races down his spine. "Sam _will_ say 'yes.' It's just a matter of time."

"...blimey, you're crazier than Voldemort." Harry shakes his head as he draws his wand, aiming it squarely at Lucifer's face. "Get out of the way or I'll turn you to dust."

"You think magic will do anything to me?" Lucifer raises an eyebrow.

"_Reducto_!" The spell hits Lucifer directly in the shoulder and the arm consequently is reduced to ash. Blood pours out of the gaping wound where Lucifer's vessel's arm had once been and the former archangel stares at it, mildly intrigued.

Harry books it back to the motel room before Lucifer's attention returns to him.

* * *

**There you go. Not _everyone_ likes Harry. Lucifer's quite fun to write, even though I feel like he's not nearly as in-character as I'd like him to be.**

**Oh, well.**


	12. Magic

**Magic**

* * *

It takes a lot of cajoling, pleading, and downright _begging_ - Dean swears it's all Sam, but Harry's already seen the hopeful look in Dean's eyes - to convince Harry to show off a bit of his magic. He's a little skeptical, especially since he avoids his magic as much as he can help it, but there is no resisting Sam Winchester's puppy eyes when he pulls them out.

So they end up somehow in Bobby's backyard, which is piled with rusty old cars that are either slightly out of use or on the verge of collapsing into pieces. Bobby has also wheeled himself out to witness the spectacle, Sam and Dean perched on the hood of the Impala as Harry draws his wand and aims it carefully at a streetlamp several yards away.

"_Reducto_!" The streetlamp's bulb shatters, spraying the ground with broken glass.

"Could do the same with a gun," Dean notes, shrugging, and Harry bristles.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" He aims his wand next at a discarded muffler on the ground and it floats a few feet into the air before dropping again.

"Pull a rabbit out of your hat next!" Dean calls, grinning, and Sam nudges him.

"Shut up, man, you're the one who wanted to see this." Dean settles down, but Harry's temper is already rising.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" The silvery stag Patronus erupts from his wand, cantering around the four hunters a few times before moving to nuzzle Harry affectionately. He rubs its head gently before it dissipates into silvery mist.

Harry is mildly glad Dean doesn't comment on the Patronus.

"_Avis_!" With a bang, several canaries appear and twitter around Sam and Dean's heads before flapping off in the direction of the woods.

"Not a rabbit, but close enough," Dean snarks and Harry snaps. He flicks his wand sharply upwards at Dean without an incantation and Dean raises an eyebrow. "Dude, is that some magical version of flipping me off? 'Cause if that's the case, I - _SON OF A BITCH_!"

Dean is suddenly yanked into the air by his ankle and is left dangling above the hood of the Impala. Sam and Bobby gape at him for a few moments before howling with laughter as Harry twirls his wand expertly, pretending to blow steam away from the end.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Dean yelps as his shirt threatens to obey gravity and fall downwards, revealing his bare stomach. He grabs the hem of his shirt and yanks it back up, looking rather feminine in the process. "I won't make fun of the midget wizard!"

Harry narrows his eyes at the "midget" crack, but figures it's as good an apology as he'll ever get. He flicks his wand downwards and Dean crashes into the hood of the Impala headfirst. Sam stops laughing long enough to check Dean for any injuries. When it's clear that Dean's thick skull has prevented any harm, he subsides into laughter once again.

Dean stalks back into Bobby's house, grumbling about four-eyed midgets and sweet, sweet revenge.

* * *

**I just like the idea of Harry tormenting Dean whenever he gets snarky. Harry's known for his short temper after all, he wouldn't put up with Dean's crap.**

**Hope you enjoyed it!**


	13. Payback

**Payback**

* * *

Dean's revenge on Harry is, in Harry's opinion, rather weak. He wait until Harry walks out of Bobby's house and dumps a bucket of icy water on the wizard's head.

Aside from the_ lovely_ cold Harry receives as a result, the prank doesn't particularly scream humiliation, but at least now Harry has a good reason to fight back since Dean is the initiator of the prank war.

So he puts a rubber spider in Dean's bed. Sam doesn't hesitate to record his brother screaming like a little girl and scrambling out of bed on his cellphone.

Dean somehow manages to enlist Castiel's help in hiding Harry's glasses. Harry spends most of the day squinting and wandering through Bobby's house blindly, arms stretched out in front of him like a mummy.

Unfortunately, Castiel feels so bad for pulling the stunt that he returns Harry's glasses by late afternoon.

Harry then enlists _Gabriel's_ help - the archangel, incidentally, is delighted at the thought of a prank war - in turning the Impala neon green. Sam has to catch Dean before the older Winchester faints. Despite Gabriel's insistence that the car "brings out Dean's eyes now," both wizard and archangel find themselves running for their lives.

This new atrocity forces Dean to take it up to the next level. He forces a reluctant and disgruntled Sam to distract Harry with conversation while he hides Harry's wand. Harry, of course, goes into full-blown panic mode when he realizes the source of his power is missing. While Dean cannot actually use the wand, he does manage to hide it in the glove compartment of the Impala successfully.

It takes a full day for Harry to find it and by that time, the wizard is furious, and he takes it out on Dean by directly casting the _Levicorpus_ spell on him again. He leaves Dean dangling upside-down for at least fifteen minutes, waiting for the blood to rush to his head before dropping him and promptly casting a _Rictusempra_. Dean is reduced to a purple-faced mess of breathless giggles - yes, _giggles_ - by the time Harry finally lets the curse up.

Dean gasps for air on the floor and calls a temporary truce.

Bobby shakes his head and calls all of them "idjits."

* * *

**The long-awaited prank war! And more magic! Yes, I quite enjoy writing vengeful!Harry. And vengeful!Dean, for that matter. Especially against each other. It's quite entertaining.**

**Let me know what you think!**


	14. Potions

**Potions**

* * *

"Eye of newt." Harry holds out a hand expectantly and Bobby hands him the bottle. Harry adds the newt eyes before stirring the cauldron twice counterclockwise. Acrid purple smoke rises from the simmering potion ominously.

"Boy, if you blow up my house..." Bobby warns.

"Oh, relax. I haven't blown up a house in at least two years." When Bobby gives Harry an alarmed look, Harry merely grins back shamelessly. "Only joking, I'm not _that_ awful at brewing. Ron, on the other hand..." He shudders at the memory of Ron's last botched potion before returning to brewing, stirring in two spines of lionfish. "And anyway, it's a good idea to have a stock of potions. Never know when we'll need to patch someone up in a hurry."

The door slams open on cue and Sam and Dean stagger in, the former leaning heavily on the latter with an arm draped around his shoulders.

"What did you idjits do now?" Bobby sighs as Harry turns off the heat beneath the cauldron, pouring some of the green potion into a vial.

"The Sasquatch got his leg broken while taking a hit from a crowbar meant for me," Dean replies irritably, helping Sam limp over to the couch and sitting him down before roughly cuffing him over the head. Sam grimaces in pain.

"Good thing I just brewed some Pain Relief, then," Harry notes, glancing at the vial before handing it over to Sam, who takes it and gives the potion an odd look.

"Do I even want to know what's in this?"

"I saw it being made, boy. Trust me, you don't," Bobby answers, his nose wrinkling at the recent memory.

"Bottoms up." Harry gestures to the vial and Sam reluctantly tosses the contents back into his mouth, gagging almost immediately.

"That's _disgusting_!"

"D'you want your leg to stop hurting or not?" Harry accepts the empty vial from Sam, who's struggling to keep the potion from making a reappearance, before muttering, "_Ferula_." Thick white bandages wrap tightly around Sam's broken leg, simultaneously setting and binding it. Sam hisses sharply, but refrains from making any other noise.

"You are the worst doctor ever," Dean assesses as he hops up onto Bobby's desk. The older hunter promptly shoves him off again.

"I concur," Sam adds immediately, still wincing.

"You do realize I could have poisoned that potion," Harry warns.

Sam's wide-eyed, clearly having not thought of that, and Harry's stern expression lasts for all of two seconds as he cracks up.

* * *

**I blinked and somehow found that this story's gotten over a hundred reviews. -faints from shock- I shall just love you all now, okay? Okay.**


	15. Thanksgiving

**Thanksgiving**

* * *

Sam and Dean expect Bobby to be grouching at them from over a dusty book when they walk into the house on Thanksgiving Day, having not celebrated the holiday since they were very young.

They don't expect the kitchen to be lit up brightly, the warm smell of home-cooked food greeting them.

"The hell?" Dean mutters as he heads towards the kitchen first, Sam snapping out of his shock and following him quickly. They find Harry stirring something in a large pot, peering into it occasionally while Bobby passes him ingredients from the side. "Aw, ain't that sweet?" Dean snarks, causing both wizard and retired hunter to turn around, startled. "It's like Martha Stewart's possessed you two."

"The boy insisted," Bobby protests immediately, scowling. "You think I'm gonna waste my breath cookin' for you two knuckleheads?"

Harry snorts. "'Course you are, you're a regular Suzy Homemaker so long as no one's watching."

"Who the hell taught you that reference?" Bobby mumbles rhetorically, glaring mildly.

Finally, the food is ready to be consumed. The pot had contained cranberry sauce, which Harry ladles out into a serving bowl beside another one containing gravy. Mashed potatoes sit in another dish and Harry gets out a roast turkey from the oven.

"Dude, seriously, what's with the spread?" Dean asks, raising an eyebrow, and Harry merely shrugs.

"Thanksgiving doesn't exist in England, and I thought I'd give it a go. Besides, I've always cooked for my relatives when I was younger." He falters briefly and they all see something dark briefly pass over his eyes before he snaps out of it again, smiling brightly. "So you're all going to eat my food, whether you like it or not!" With that, he carves the turkey.

Dean grumbles as they all load their plates and doesn't stop until he puts the first forkful of turkey into his mouth. He freezes, as does Sam and Bobby when they take their first bites.

"What?" Harry looks at the three anxiously.

Sam's the first to break out of his stupor. "Harry, this is the best turkey we've ever had." Dean and Bobby are quick to concur and Harry turns bright red, his mouth falling open slightly in surprise. Dean tries not to be confused, but still wonders why Harry acts as if he's never been praised for his awesome cooking before.

"Oh, I-I, er..." the wizard stammers, unsure of what to say, and Dean merely reaches over to ruffle the wizard's hair almost as affectionately as he would Sam's.

"You keep cooking like this, you're gonna end up an honorary Winchester."

Harry ducks his head, unable to keep from smiling widely, before replying, "Well, I suppose I don't have to bribe you with the cherry pie I've made for dessert, then, do I?"

"Pie?!" Dean looks ecstatic.

* * *

**Here's the belated Thanksgiving drabble! Thank you to Sakura Lisel for the idea! And now I'm off to see "Rise of the Guardians" and pretend to have a social life!**


	16. Sick

**Sick**

* * *

"Where the hell have _you_ been?" Dean asks accusingly as Harry stumbles into the motel room.

"Library," Harry grunts tiredly, collapsing onto the sofa while Sam frowns at him, taking in what Dean had missed upon first glance: the sheen of sweat on Harry's forehead, the paleness of his skin, and the slight grimace on his face.

"You okay?" he ventures carefully and Harry nods tersely.

"Fine. What've you got on the murders?"

Sam doesn't let it go as easily, though, and gets up, grabbing the first-aid kit from his duffel bag and pulling out a thermometer. Harry's eyes widen when he sees it and he launches up from the sofa, ducking under Sam's arm and locking himself into the bathroom.

"Harry!" Sam groans, banging on the bathroom door. "Come out!"

"No!" Harry shouts back stubbornly.

"I got this." Dean nudges Sam away from the door before snapping, "Harry James Potter, if you don't come out before I count to _three_-!"

"Bugger off, Winchester!"

Dean balks, insulted.

"Nice going, _Dad_," Sam snickers, earning a sullen look from his brother before returning to the task at hand. "Harry, if you don't open the door, we're breaking it down!"

"What if I've got my trousers down?!" Harry demands, horrified.

"I'm calling your bluff on that one!"

Harry reluctantly unlocks the door and steps out. Sam takes the opportunity to shove the thermometer into his mouth. Harry grumbles around the device and Sam shushes him with practiced patience - after all, Dean isn't a very good patient, either. The thermometer beeps and Sam takes it out of Harry's mouth.

"Hundred and three." Harry looks terrified. "_Fahrenheit_," Sam adds hurriedly and the wizard relaxes.

"Bloody hell, mate, give a wizard a heart-attack..." Before he can continue grumbling, though, Sam merely has to give Dean one glance before the older Winchester scoops Harry up, dropping him unceremoniously on the bed. "Oi!" Harry tries to roll out of bed and Dean pins him down with one hand effortlessly.

"Don't make me sit on you." Harry wisely settles back down, kicking his shoes off sulkily and flopping against the pillows. "Tomato rice or chicken?" The question makes Harry blink at him, bewildered. "Soup, Potter. Tomato rice is what I usually make for Sam when he's sick, but if you've got a preference, I-"

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no. You are _not_ fussing over me," Harry groans.

"Honorary Winchester," Dean reminds him, ruffling his hair. "It's a package deal. Fussing and all."

"Just let him," Sam advises Harry, who looks completely out of his depth at the unfamiliar idea of being taken care of. "It's best to let Dean get his mother-henning out of his system."

"Excuse you," Dean huffs as he sets about searching their supplies for a can of soup. "I happen to be a fantastic mother-hen."

"At least he's admitting it now. He's been in denial for years," Sam stage-whispers to Harry, who finally smiles tentatively.

"Thanks," he rasps at last, glancing between the brothers. "Really."

"Shut up and get some sleep. Soup'll be on when you wake up," Dean orders in response, but an affectionate smile is tugging at his lips all the same. Harry looks at Sam, who merely mirrors that smile back at him and ruffles his hair - Harry feels that he should point out that Sam is younger than him, but he's too tired to - before getting up to continue his research on their latest case.

Harry gives in at last, closing his eyes and leaning back against the pillows after taking off his glasses. He supposes being in a family, even if it's just an honorary one, has its perks and being fussed over is one of them.

* * *

**My heart is a puddle of melted fuzziness on the ground. Seriously. I love these three, okay? I'm giving credit to JayceKelly for the idea. She suggested Harry be hurt and the Winchesters find out, but since I've had an injury-related drabble already, I changed it around to Harry being sick. Hope you still like it either way!**

**Incidentally - not really, this has no relevance to what I've just said, but screw it, it's my author's note - "Rise of the Guardians" was much better than I expected it to be. If you get the chance, do go see it, it was lovely. And no, I'm not just saying that because Jack Frost was a very good-looking animated character ;D.**

**Now that my promotion is over, please review!**


	17. Spirit

**Spirit**

* * *

Harry doesn't normally go on the simple salt-and-burn cases, figuring Sam and Dean generally have it handled. So he sits back at the motel, doing research on the Apocalypse and how to stop Lucifer. While this doesn't really go anywhere, it's a good time-killer.

He's surprised when he gets a call on his recently-purchased cellphone, which blares "Eye of the Tiger" - Dean had had a hand in the ringtone selection, clearly - and he grabs the phone, flipping it open.

"Hello?"

"Get your scrawny ass over to the cemetery!" Dean yells into the phone and Harry winces as he pulls the phone away from his ear slightly to avoid hearing damage. "We're a little outnumbered!"

"Define outnumbered." Harry's already out of his chair.

"Five to two." Harry hears Sam grunt in pain in the background and a heavy thud of something hitting the ground hard. "Uhh. Five to one."

"Go help Sam, I'm on my way." Harry ends the call and sets out for the cemetery.

* * *

He arrives within seconds, sending a silent thanks to whoever invented Apparition, and tosses a handful of rocksalt at the female ghost hovering over Sam's prone form, causing it to dissipate with a shriek, while Dean attempts to hold back four others.

"Can't salt and burn 'em if they're distracting us!" Dean calls over the unearthly wails and groans of the spirits. "Sam got a good knock to the head and - oh, son of a bitch." He wheels around to face the ghosts. "Hey, you mind?! I'm having a conversation here!"

The ghosts fall silent, looking scandalized by Dean's interruption. One in particular, a five-year-old boy, kicks Dean's leg sullenly, but Dean resolutely ignores him.

"Can you just-?" He waves helplessly at the spirits and Harry snorts as he pulls out his wand.

"Yeah, all right." The ghosts, having understood that a change has just happened, charge at Harry, who blasts them apart with a simple "_Reducto_." They form only seconds later, but it's enough time for Dean to scramble for the salt and lighter fluid. While Dean hurries in pouring both substances into the mass grave of the five ghosts' corpses, Harry repeatedly shouts "_Reducto_" at each of the ghosts, who rematerialize almost instantly. They look angrier with each destruction.

Sam groans as he comes around and Harry loses his focus as he glances worriedly at the taller Winchester. His distraction allows the ghosts to swarm him, knocking him over.

"Harry!" Sam yells, struggling to his feet just as Dean tosses a lit match into the mass grave below. The ghosts dissipate in flashes of fire, screaming all the way, and Sam runs to prop up a dazed Harry. His glasses are lopsided on his face, though thankfully not broken, and there's a deep gash in his temple, trickling blood down the side of his head.

"That's gonna need stitches," Dean notes, grimacing in sympathy as he kneels on Harry's other side. The brothers lift Harry up in unison, helping him stumble back to the Impala. Dean sets to work in grabbing the first-aid kit from the trunk, taking an antiseptic wipe to clean out the cut on Harry's forehead, and the wizard flinches.

"Stings," he mutters in protest, attempting to shove Dean's hands away.

"Suck it up, Potter," Dean tells him sharply. "Serves you right for losing your focus." Harry momentarily stills at his words and Sam gives Dean a sharp look for his choice of words as he pulls out a sterilized needle and thread.

"Hey, he doesn't mean it like _that_," he tries to assure Harry as he nudges Dean aside to stitch the cut closed. "He just means you should've been more careful."

"I know." Harry's quiet and meek now, not at all the stubborn snarky brat they're used to.

"Doesn't sound like you do." Dean snorts as he discards the used antiseptic wipe.

"Well, I _do_, all right?" Harry shoots a glare at him and he holds his hands up in defeat, glancing at Sam helplessly. Sam sets to stitching up the gash and Harry is sufficiently distracted from his irritation.

Dean squeezes the smaller hunter's shoulder in silent apology when Sam's done and Harry gives him a weary smile. All is well once again, even if Harry's reaction to Dean's words nags at the older Winchester more than it should.

* * *

**I know, this is more of a serious one, but I feel like I'm leading up to Sam and Dean finding out about Harry's childhood, and it's really not something you can make fun of. -cries because poor baby Harry-** **So yes. You can expect that in the next update.**

**I now have a shameless self-promotion: follow my Tumblr, if you have one of your own! I'm batsingotham and I just mainly post Supernatural stuff, but I do have a drabble-writing section (in which some of the first few chapters of this fic is posted) and I've got a singing section where I post my own covers of songs. -pokes- FOLLOW ME. FOLLOW, I SAY.**

**I also dare you all to guess what language my mother tongue is. Genuinely curious as to what you guys think, based on my writings and speech.**


	18. Fame

**Fame**

* * *

Harry just wants to finish his "supply-raiding," or rather, grocery-shopping, in peace. Sam and Dean already look out of place in the small store, their tall forms looming over the shelves and intimidating little old ladies pushing shopping carts.

Instead of the peace he asks for, though, Harry hears a gasp as a little girl stares blatantly at his scar.

_Oh, __no_, he groans mentally.

"It's you!" she squeals excitedly, earning odd looks from Dean and Sam as they peer over at Hary from the next aisle over. "You're Harry Potter!" Harry sighs wearily and nods as he kneels down to her height, plastering a smile on his face.

"Yes, that's right. What's your name?"

"Elizabeth," she says shyly, clearly awestruck by Harry's presence. Her voice holds a hint of a British accent, suggesting that she and her parents are part of the British wizarding community and not the American one.

"Lizzie, for goodness' sake, you can't run off like that," a redheaded woman, clearly her mother, scolds as she approaches.

"Mummy, Mummy, it's him, it's Harry Potter!" Elizabeth tells her mother excitedly. "He's got the scar and everything!"

"Do you really?" Elizabeth's mother looks up at Harry, blinking bemusedly, and Harry lifts his bangs briefly to reveal his scar before covering it again.

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he says politely.

"Oh, pleasure's all mine, dear." She smiles back at him warmly and he's a little relieved that she doesn't fawn over him. "It's not every day I meet the man who saved all of our kind."

Harry flushes, embarrassed. "I, er...it's really not as heroic as you make it out to be," he mumbles as Dean and Sam round the shelves to approach them.

"Hey, everything okay here?" Sam asks curiously.

"Yeah! Yeah, we were just catching up on some stuff back _home_," Harry covers quickly, stressing "home" so that the hunters know he's referring to the wizarding world.

"Okay, well, uhh..." Dean glances sharply at the witch and her daughter, both of whom automatically take a step back when they realize what he is. "You're gonna have to explain some stuff later," he finishes simply, waiting for Harry's nod before he turns to leave. "C'mon, Sam, let's get to the car." Sam follows Dean, leaving Harry with the two witches.

"You're friends with hunters?" the mother murmurs, stunned, and Harry shrugs.

"They're good people, when you get to know them. They just haven't met any friendly members of our kind."

She still looks nervous, but nods in acceptance. "Come on, Lizzie, let's get back to Daddy."

"Wait!" Elizabeth rummages in her pockets and pulls out a tiny black book and a pen. "Could I please have your autograph, Mr. Harry?"

Now Harry's no Gilderoy Lockhart, and he vividly remembers the "signed photographs" rumor, but he can hardly refuse the child. "All right." He takes the pen and writes a small message to Elizabeth.

_Lizzie, always keep that lovely smile. Harry Potter._

Elizabeth positively beams when she reads the message, clutching the book to her chest as if it's a prized possession. "Thank you, Mr. Harry!" She skips off after her mother, who bids him farewell even though her voice is still trembling slightly with fear.

Harry shakes his head - he knows prejudice better than anyone - and checks out the groceries in his cart before heading for the Impala.

"What the hell, Harry?" Dean snaps as Harry loads the bags into the trunk - over the false bottom that conceals their arsenal - before climbing into the backseat.

"I told you I was famous." Harry grimaces.

"Yeah, and that's _all_ you told us," Sam points out quietly. "I mean, we don't know anything about you except little things that we just happen to overhear."

"You ever think it's because it doesn't matter?" Harry argues. "It's not going to help us on our next case, or in the Apocalypse, so why do you care so much?"

"Honorary Winchester," Dean says frankly and Harry notes that he's been using that excuse a lot lately. "C'mon, man. We spill our guts to you all the time."

"Because you're whiny little bitches." Harry sounds so much like Dean in that moment that Sam snorts even as Dean sends Harry a half-hearted scowl.

"Seriously, man. We want to know about you," the younger Winchester prompts.

Harry huffs, admitting defeat. "Fine. I'll share my life story. But we're getting bloody ice cream and pie for this."

Dean doesn't hesitate to agree, especially since pie has been suggested.

* * *

**I know, I promised waterworks. And I just can't bring myself to do it today because it's been a stressful day and I'm emotionally dead. So it WILL be in the next chapter, I promise! This chapter is the first half of the "Harry-reveals-his-past" bit I'd wanted to do, so the next will be the actual story-telling.**

**On another note, I wanted to ask you all: how many of you would be interested in reading a slightly-AU Supernatural fic in which Sam and Dean had an adopted sister who was older than them? I've been playing around with the muse for months, and I've written more than a hundred pages of the story, so I figured it was time to approach people and ask what they think of the idea. I know it sounds a little cliche, but I like to think it's a relatively unique plot in the way I played it out. If anyone wants details - or little snippets of the story - I'd be happy to give them out.**

**Let me know!**


	19. Past

**Past**

* * *

When Harry, Sam, and Dean are comfortably seated in the diner, steaming slices of apple pie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream in front of each of them (even Sam, despite his protests that he wants to eat healthy), Harry takes his glasses off to rub at his eyes tiredly. Despite his blurred vision, he can see the anxiety etched into the Winchesters' faces.

"Where do you want me to start?" he asks wearily as he slips his glasses back on.

"Beginning's always a good place," Sam suggests, leaning forward slightly to rest his elbows on the table. Dean eats a forkful of pie before imitating his brother in posture.

Harry huffs exasperatedly before beginning, "Well, you know about Voldemort already. He showed up to my parents' house on Halloween night when I was a year old. Dad shouted for Mum to take me and run before he died, and Mum died trying to protect me." He swallows the lump in his throat, pretending not to notice the raw sympathy in the Winchesters' expressions. "The curse didn't work on me, though, and it rebounded, destroying Voldemort and the house along with him. Hagrid, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts, found me in the ruins and on Dumbledore's orders, took me to my aunt and uncle, since they were my only living relatives."

Noting Harry's bitter tone, Dean remarks, "Guessing you weren't too happy with them."

"They...didn't appreciate that I was magical," Harry ventures carefully, pausing to choose the right wording. "I was different, and all they wanted was to be normal. I ruined their perfect reputation."

"You couldn't help that," Sam protests.

Harry merely shrugs. "Well, it doesn't matter. It's in the past now."

"What did they do?" Harry remains silent as he thinks of a way to get out of telling them. "Harry." He looks up warily at Dean, whose expression is stony. "What. Did. They. Do?"

Harry suppresses a flinch at the cold anger in Dean's voice, but admits quietly, "They, erm...thought they could squash the magic out of me. Make me normal." Sam inhales sharply and Dean looks murderous. "It was always just small at the beginning, just hair-pulling and the occasional swing with the frying pan, but-"

"That's _small_?" Dean scoffs, shaking his head.

"Oi, you wanted to know," Harry reminds him and he relents. "My magic kept accidentally acting up before I got my Hogwarts letter, and every time that happened, Uncle Vernon wasn't exactly pleased. Usually, he just locked me in my cupboard for a few days-"

"_Your_ cupboard?" Sam echoes.

"Er, yeah...that's where I slept." Dean jolts out of the booth as if it's caught fire. "What?" Harry asks, startled.

"Just curious, where does your family live?" the older Winchester answers with a question of his own almost pleasantly even as he reaches for the gun tucked in his belt. Harry's eyes widen in horror and he throws a pleading look to Sam.

"Sit down, Dean," Sam admonishes, even though he looks close to homicide himself. "They live in England, not here." Dean slumps back into the seat, sulking. "Go on, Harry," Sam prompts when his brother settles down.

"Right." Harry shakes it off and continues, "I kept getting letters a few days before my eleventh birthday and my aunt and uncle tried to shake the wizards off by taking me and Dudley - my cousin - to this abandoned cottage on a rock the day before my birthday." Dean snorts at Harry's cousin's name, but says nothing. "That's when Hagrid came with my letter and told me what I was. Took me shopping for school supplies and shipped me off to Hogwarts for my first year."

"I hope you hexed your relatives," Dean mutters vindictively and Harry shakes his head.

"Underage wizards can't use magic out of school."

Dean groans in disappointment, but Sam jumps to Harry's rescue with, "What happened your first year?"

"Apparently, there was a Philosopher's Stone hidden in the school and Voldemort possessed my Defense teacher, Professor Quirrell, to get to it. I managed to stop him."

"At _eleven_?" Sam raises his eyebrows.

"It wasn't just me," Harry hastens to add, flushing, "Ron and Hermione-"

"Even with help, that's really impressive," Dean interrupts, looking similarly impressed with Harry.

Mortified, Harry continues, "So summer before second year, this bizarre house-elf showed up in my room." Sam and Dean blink. "I got moved out of the cupboard because they were scared of my magic." They look satisfied. "He warned me not to go back to Hogwarts and when I told him I had to, he used magic to scare off some important clients Uncle Vernon had for dinner." Harry grimaces, remembering the punishment that had followed. "My uncle thought I'd done the magic, so he locked me in my room. Put bars on the window and a cat-flap on my door for food."

"Like an animal," Sam realizes and Dean makes an odd growling noise in the back of his throat. Harry often forgets that the men sitting across from him are essentially professional murderers, but it's easy to see it now. He hopes his uncle would never run into them in a dark alley.

"Right, erm..." He clears his throat. "It's all right, Ron and his brothers busted me out, we went to Hogwarts, there were a lot of attacks, I killed a basilisk-"

"You _what_?!" Sam's eyebrows are in danger of disappearing into his hairline while Dean looks as if he wants to put Harry in Bobby's panic room to keep him safe.

"A basilisk, yeah." Harry rushes ahead before the brothers can comment. "Third year, I accidentally blew up Uncle Vernon's sister, Aunt Marge, ran away from their house, found out my godfather, Sirius Black, had broken out from prison, went to school, thought Sirius had betrayed my parents to Voldemort, but it turns out it was another friend of my dad's, Peter Pettigrew, who was thought to have been killed by Sirius, but faked his own death. Pettigrew escaped, though, and Sirius went on the run."

Dean and Sam look overwhelmed.

"Er...maybe we should just continue later?" Harry suggests hesitantly and Dean and Sam nod vehemently, making a note to track down Harry's relatives and hopefully knock some guilt into them.

* * *

**Not sure whether I want to continue the "Harry-tells-all" plot, but really, I just wanted to get the Dursleys out of the way. So if anyone wants Harry to cover years four through seven with Dean and Sam, let me know, but I don't mind leaving it at this point, either.**

**I know this isn't exactly waterworks-material, but it definitely has Protective!Winchesters and that makes everything okay :D.**


	20. Past II

**Past II**

* * *

Harry manages to snap the Winchesters out of their stupor long enough to finish their pie and ice cream before paying the bill and making a hasty retreat back to their motel room. Sam and Dean take seats at the table while Harry sprawls onto one of the beds, claiming it as his. Sam would take the other that night while Dean has been given the pull-out couch.

"Okay, so that's third year done," Sam says and Harry nods. Dean doesn't look too happy, probably still disgruntled by the Dursleys, and Harry decides not to bring them up again.

"Right, so summer before fourth year, I went to the Quidditch World Cup with Ron and his family. That night, though, the whole campsite for the Cup was attacked by Death Eaters - Voldemort's people," he adds when he sees the frowns on the Winchesters' faces. "We got out okay, though, and got to Hogwarts, where they were holding a Triwizard Tournament. A champion from Hogwarts and each of the other two schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, would compete in three tasks for a Triwizard Cup and a thousand Galleons prize." Dean whistles, impressed; Harry's already taught them how to convert between dollars and magical currency. "Dumbledore made an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire, which chooses the champions, so that only students over the age of seventeen could join."

"Let me guess," Sam says dryly. "The Goblet chose you."

"Right in one." Harry grimaces. "Along with another Hogwarts champion from Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory. Nice bloke." Harry's expression becomes pensive briefly and Dean clears his throat to snap him out of it. Harry jolts back into awareness, looking guilty as he continues, "The Durmstrang champion was Viktor Krum and the Beauxbatons champion was Fleur Delacour. She's married to Ron's oldest brother now. Anyway, I was forced to compete."

"But you were three years younger than everyone else," Sam protests.

"It's a magical binding contract. I _had_ to perform," Harry explains. Sam grumbles something about finding a loophole - Harry vaguely remembers that Sam had once been a pre-law student - before falling silent once more. "Anyway, the first task had each of us fending off a dragon to retrieve a golden egg that had a clue for the second task."

"A _dragon_?" Sam's eyebrows shoot up as Dean makes a choking noise.

"It's all right, I had my broomstick," Harry reassures them. "I managed to fly out of the dragon's way far enough to get the egg." Dean twitches as if he wants to go to Harry's side, but stays where he is, his expression carefully blank. "Second task was in the lake, we had to find our most treasured things, or people, which were hidden by the merpeople living in the lake. I had to get Ron. We all got out of that one pretty fast."

"You can't swim," Dean reminds Harry, remembering the midget's failed attempt at diving for a ghost's body in a shallow cove once.

"I used Gillyweed. Gave me gills." Dean's eyes double in size as Harry skims past the Yule Ball and all the drama that had gone with it. "The third task was a maze. The Cup was in the center, and if one of us got to it, we'd win. Cedric and I both got there, and we touched the Cup at the same time, but it turned out to be a Portkey."

"It transported you somewhere?" Sam asks, remembering Harry's brief explanation of Portkeys months ago.

"Yeah. Specifically a graveyard." Harry suppresses a shudder at the next part. "There was this horrible voice, it...it ordered someone to 'kill the spare.' There was this green light, the Killing Curse, and..." He swallows. "Cedric was dead." The Winchesters, whose lives are constructed on death and despair, look sympathetic. "The servant, he tied me to a statue. Took some of my blood, some crushed bones from a grave, and cut off his own hand into a cauldron. It was a resurrection spell, to bring Voldemort back...and it worked." Harry doesn't go into any further details on his encounter with Voldemort, but Sam and Dean seem horrified already. "I managed to get away, grabbed Cedric's body and the Cup, which brought us back to Hogwarts. Turns out our Defense teacher that year was a Death Eater in disguise who'd entered me in the Tournament to get me to Voldemort."

"Have you ever _not_ gotten into trouble at that school?" Dean croaks at last, looking pale.

Harry thinks about it. "Now that you mention it, nope. Always had an adventure or two."

"Great." Dean lets his head fall to the table with a heavy thunk. Sam reaches over to awkwardly pat the top of his brother's head, his own eyes wide with shock at Harry's story.

"Fifth year, everyone thought I'd been lying about Voldemort. Only my friends and Dumbledore believed me, but the Ministry covered it all up. Even sent a bunch of Dementors after me that summer to shut me up."

Sam and Dean remember their own encounter with a Dementor all too well and shudder.

"They even made one of their own employees, Dolores Umbridge, our Defense teacher." Harry scoffs. "That cow didn't even teach us Defense, told us the _theory_ was all we needed. When I told her - well, I say told, I kind of snapped at her - that theory wouldn't do us much good in the real world because Voldemort was out there and she gave me detention."

Sam and Dean look confused as to why Harry's mentioning a minor detail now and the wizard smiles wearily.

"Ever wonder how I got these scars?" He holds up his right hand, where the words "I must not tell lies" are carved into his skin.

Dean's eyes widen in horror. "She didn't."

"Blood Quill. They're illegal, but I didn't know that at the time," Harry explains.

"That _bitch_," Sam snarls with more ferocity than Harry has ever heard from the normally-patient younger Winchester. It sends a strange warmth through Harry that he can't quite explain.

"Well, erm...I started a group called Dumbledore's Army to teach other students real defense, and we practiced right under Umbridge's nose without her finding out. Dumbledore was kicked out of Hogwarts and Umbridge was made Headmistress. All year, I'd been having these sort of...visions. Not future ones, just stuff that Voldemort happened to be doing. I had a direct link to his mind through this." Harry taps his scar. "Around the end of the year, I got a vision that told me Sirius had been captured and was at the Ministry. Hermione, Ron, and some other friends from the D.A. came along to help me, but it turned out to be a trap. The Death Eaters had tricked us into coming to retrieve a prophecy about me and Voldemort for them. Then the Order of the Phoenix - Dumbledore's organization - came to fight them off, but-" Harry's voice breaks here and he falls silent.

"Who died?" Sam prompts quietly, understanding why Harry had paused.

"Sirius," the wizard rasps miserably at last. He doesn't continue on that vein, but returns to his story, his voice thick with tears, "Voldemort himself came to the Ministry. Dumbledore fought him off and the prophecy was destroyed. I only heard what it said later in Dumbledore's office. It was a prediction that someone would be born who would defeat Voldemort someday."

"It was about you," Dean realizes and Harry nods.

"It's why Voldemort had been after me all along. To do me in before I could finish him off." Harry forges ahead quickly. "Sixth year, I learned how Voldemort had avoided death the night he tried to kill me. He'd created Horcruxes. I told you about those." Sam and Dean nod. "Dumbledore died at the end of that year and I set out on a hunt for the other Horcruxes with Hermione and Ron. We didn't go to Hogwarts that year, not since Death Eaters had taken it over. Blimey, that was a long year." Harry chuckles wryly. "Can't even remember most of it now. We got most of the Horcruxes, though. Got 'em to Hogwarts and destroyed them with something called Fiendfyre. But then Voldemort came to Hogwarts and-" Harry breaks off again.

"That's when the battle started," Sam finishes.

Harry nods. "Long story short, I beat him. He died. Took a lot of good people with him. After the war...I just couldn't stay there anymore. I finished my last year at Hogwarts and left as soon as I graduated. Came to the States, started hunting...met your dad." He quirks a small smile, remembering how distrustful John Winchester had been of him. "He introduced me to Bobby and more recently, Bobby introduced me to you two. Rest is history."

Sam and Dean have a feeling there are a lot of details skipped, but they can't push Harry, especially in light of all the information shoved at them. In one move, Dean pushes out of his chair and moves to Harry's side before roughly pulling the smaller man into a hug. Harry stiffens, startled, and Dean squeezes his shoulders gently.

"Dude, your life was crap," he mutters against Harry's hair and the wizard flushes, embarrassed. Sam sits on Harry's other side, waiting for Dean to let go before he bestows his own embrace on Harry, who squirms uncomfortably.

"You're stuck with us now," the younger Winchester tells him affectionately, ruffling his hair, and Harry finally smiles tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." Dean cracks a grin. "Deal with it." He throws his arm carelessly around both Sam's and Harry's shoulders.

* * *

**Welp. I didn't want to overload you lot with Harry Potter summary, since I doubt you'd be reading this fic if you didn't know Harry Potter already, but honestly, the number of reviews I got telling me to finish the "Harry-reveals-all" arc!** **I had to satisfy you all somehow! XD**

**Oh, and don't worry. The Dursleys will receive the wrath of the Winchesters soon. ;D**


	21. Revenge

**Revenge**

* * *

_It's a simple grocery-run_, Dean tells himself as he and Sam pick up the supplies they need from the shelves. _It'll take five minutes, tops._ His assertion quickly changes when he hears a simpering voice from the next aisle over.

"Dudley, darling, if we pick up some sauce, I could make some of your favorite spaghetti for supper." Dudley? Isn't that Harry's cousin's name? And it's not a common name, given the fact that it's just so stupid, so Dean decides to take a look. He subtly peeks over the top of the shelf and sees what he first assumes to be a young killer whale beside a stick.

_Wait, no, those are humans. What did that guy's parents _feed_ him as a kid?_ Dean snorts, earning Sam's attention, and he jerks his head at the whale of a man and the bony woman beside him.

"Harry's family," he mouths at Sam, whose confused expression morphs quickly into a thoughtful frown. "Now I know what you're gonna say," Dean begins under his breath wearily. "It's the midget's business. We shouldn't get involved. You know what? Screw what you think. He's been through hell because of those people, and I'm giving them what they deserve."

Sam rolls his eyes, his lips twitching with barely-restrained amusement. "I was just gonna say we'll need a bit of expert help in this."

"Expert?" Dean raises an eyebrow.

"Just go ahead, I'll catch up." Sam waves him off and Dean grins widely as he walks over to the next aisle.

"Dursley, isn't it?" he says loudly enough to catch their attentions and Petunia gasps, grabbing Dudley's arm.

"You - you're one of _those people_!"

Dean snorts. "Hardly. Though I am pretty good friends with your nephew. Y'know, little midget with glasses, a bad-ass scar, and a guilt-complex the size of Texas?"

"How is Harry?" Dudley asks with mild curiosity, earning a reprimanding glare from his mother and a bewildered look from Dean.

"Dudley, we don't care about that ungrateful freak," Petunia hisses at her son, as if it's something she's told him multiple times. The insult gets Dean's blood boiling, though, and he has to restrain himself from hitting the woman.

"You and your husband made that kid's life a nightmare, you bitch," he snarls and Petunia's eyes widen in shock. "Now I'm not gonna lie, the kid's like a little brother to me, and I'm _very_ protective of my family. So if you've got any brains at all, then you and your husband had better apologize to Harry like you mean it."

"How _dare_ you-?" Petunia sputters and Dean's about to tear her a new one when he feels a warm hand briefly rest on his shoulder.

"I got this one, Dean-o." Gabriel saunters past him, looking just as cocky as ever. "So, you're the famous Dursleys I've heard about."

"Who do you think you-?!" Petunia begins, but Gabriel makes a slicing motion in midair and she falls silent, mouthing furiously at him. Gabriel casually ignores her. "So, kiddo, where's your daddy?" he asks Dudley pleasantly.

Dudley gapes at him, startled, before stammering, "Er - at my house."

"Awesome." Gabriel clicks his fingers, his eyes positively glittering with mischievous anticipation, and disappears with both Dursleys. Sam comes up behind Dean, smirking, and Dean turns to him.

"You called _Gabriel_?"

"Hey, he cares about Harry just as much as we do," Sam reminds him with a shrug. "Besides, he's pretty good with giving people their 'just desserts.' I figured that's what this situation needed."

Dean grins and claps his brother on the shoulder. "You did good, Sammy." Sam smiles, grateful for the praise, and they return to the motel room.

When Harry approaches them that night and demands to know why Petunia and Vernon Dursley had appeared in front of him out of thin air earlier and apologized for their behavior in the past while looking almost terrified, Dean and Sam cheerfully avoid the question.

* * *

**So I've had an awful day because I managed to injure my ankle horribly and can't put weight on it at all now. So I figured I'd write this entertaining (at least for me) chapter before my mom takes me to the hospital to get an X-ray done.**

**I hope this satisfies everyone's needs for Dursley-whump, and if it doesn't, bite me. (But please don't actually bite me. That is known as cannibalism and is in fact frowned upon in most societies.)**

**Hope you enjoyed it!**


	22. Feathers

**Feathers**

* * *

"Mmf!" is Dean's eloquent protest when a large black appendage smacks him in the face as he enters the motel room. "Cas!" he barks out through the feathers in his face in the general direction of the bed.

"Oh." Castiel has the decency to look abashed as he shifts his wing away from Dean. "My apologies. Harry wished to see them."

Dean then notices the wizard perched beside Castiel, stroking the wing nearest him reverently. "These things are _soft_, mate," Harry informs the older Winchester, grinning widely.

"Yeah, I noticed." Dean rubs his nose where Castiel's other wing had assaulted him. "I thought your wings were...y'know...more _shadowy_." He waves his arms slightly to make his point and Castiel blinks at him.

"My wings only manifest physically when I command it. What you saw in the warehouse was a partial manifestation, just enough to prove to you what I was." Castiel shivers as Harry tugs lightly on the wing curiously.

Dean decides that the subsequent flash of anger he experiences at that means nothing. He's not jealous, not at all.

"He's like a kitten," Harry notes and Castiel bristles.

"Harry, I am an angel of the Lord, not a young domesticated feline." Harry rolls his eyes and reaches up to pet Castiel's dark tousled hair. Castiel subsides into contented noises that sound suspiciously like purring.

Dean has to resist the urge to tear the angel away from Harry and hide him.

"Gabriel's wings are bigger," Sam mutters absently from the other side of the room, where he's researching on his laptop. Dean turns to gape at his little brother, who immediately looks horrified at the realization of what he has just said.

"Sam, how the hell do you know what Gabriel's wings look like?"

Sam stutters an incoherent reply, his cheeks pink with embarrassment, while Harry roars with laughter.

* * *

**It's all right, everyone, my ankle was just sprained. I had to go on crutches for a few days, but I'm fine now. Thanks to everyone who was concerned!**

**I only avoided mentioning the Dursleys' punishment because nothing I write will top Gabriel's creativity, so I'll leave it up to your imaginations. As for the Dursleys being in the States, I honestly didn't think it through when I'd written it because I'd written it in the span of fifteen minutes. My guess is Dudley lives in the States due to his job and his parents were visiting. Sorry for any other inconsistencies.**


	23. Prank

**Prank**

* * *

Sam has no idea who had given the bright idea to Gabriel that it would be funny to pretend Sam is his boyfriend. He suspects Harry - the wizard is cackling up a storm on the other side of the room.

Either way, Dean looks like he's about to faint any second, his eyes wide with horror as Gabriel cooes sickly-sweet epithets at Sam while perched on the younger Winchester's lap.

"Come on, sweetie, just try one." He waves a packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - also Harry's fault - in Sam's face. "I'll make sure you don't get any bad ones."

"Quit calling me weird nicknames, Gabriel."

"Schnookums, why do you have to be so _cranky_?"

Dean gags and Sam resolutely ignores him as he addresses Gabriel. "Dude, you're giving my brother a heart attack. Get off me."

"No way, Sammy." Gabriel goes so far as to rub his head against Sam's chest possessively, curling up like a cat against him. Sam remains as still as possible; maybe Gabriel would get bored of him and leave him alone.

"That is _it_!" Dean launches up from his chair. "Only I get to call him Sammy! Me! No one else!" He jabs a finger in Gabriel's face. "Especially not a midget archangel whose only goal is to make our lives crap!"

Gabriel's mouth twists into a frown as he purposely tightens his grasp on Sam. Even Sam has to admit Dean's words are a little harsh as he reluctantly wraps an arm around Gabriel and holds the archangel against his chest.

"Sam!" Dean protests.

"What?" Sam blinks. "He likes cuddling." Gabriel snorts as he buries his face into Sam's shoulder and Harry falls off his chair, laughing madly. Dean grumbles his way back to his own seat.

* * *

**My Sabriel senses were tingling. I had to write it. ****Also for some reason, I feel the odd need to write a Scrubs/Supernatural oneshot. Anyone up for reading that?**

**Hope you enjoyed this!**


	24. Duel

**Duel**

* * *

Sam and Dean expect to see Harry practicing his aim with a shotgun in the backyard when they return to Bobby's after a long hunt.

They _don't_ expect Harry to be in the middle of a fierce duel with a masked man in flowing black robes. Sam gapes as the two wizards fling spell after spell at each other.

"_Stupefy_!" Harry flicks his wand and the man dodges the jet of red light, sending a green one back.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" The incantation itself sends a shiver down Sam's spine and he glances at Dean helplessly. His brother's already pulling out his gun.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry shouts suddenly and this time, the spell hits Dean's hand, sending the gun flying. Dean's head snaps up to the wizard, whose sweaty face is grim and determined. "It's my fight, Dean."

"The Winchesters," the other wizard rasps as he draws himself to his full height. As impressive as it is, he's still considerably shorter than Sam. "You've made quite a name for yourselves within the wizarding community."

"Oh, stop it, you're makin' me blush." Dean doesn't smile as he says it, though, his green eyes hard as he looks back at Harry. "The hell is this guy?"

"Not your concern." Harry grimaces as he clutches at a stitch in his side.

"The hell it isn't!"

Even as Harry and Dean argue, Sam sees the masked man raise his wand. "DEAN!" He shoves his brother out of the way just as the spell slams into his chest at full-force, sending him skidding across the ground.

The last thing Sam sees before darkness closes in on him is Harry's expression twisting into rage as he roars, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

* * *

"_Ennervate_."

Sam's eyes flutter open and Dean's face swims into vision. His brother is pale with terror, his eyes wide and his lips trembling slightly. Sam hasn't seen Dean look so scared since they had been in the convent, when Lucifer had been set free.

"Sammy?"

"Dean," Sam croaks weakly and Dean exhales shakily before hauling him into a rough embrace.

"Take a hit for me again and I swear I'll kill you," he says gruffly against Sam's hair and the younger Winchester forces his arm up and around Dean's shoulders.

"I'm okay, Dean." Dean squeezes him one last time before releasing him almost reluctantly. Harry moves forward, scanning over Sam's head with his wand while murmuring something under his breath.

"Just ran a few basic medical scans. No concussion, no residual effects. You're lucky it was just a Stunning spell, and that you've got a rather thick head." Harry tries to smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Sam clasps Harry's shoulder in return.

"It's not your fault." Just like that, he knows he's hit the nail on the head as the tension drains out of Harry's shoulders. The wizard pockets his wand, unable to meet Sam's eyes, and the younger Winchester rolls his eyes before dragging the smaller man into a hug.

Harry freezes before sinking into the embrace gratefully. "That was a Death Eater," he mumbles against Sam's shoulder. "One of the last of Voldemort's followers. Can't believe he found me here, of all places."

"Forget it," Dean says firmly. "We're all okay and - wait, where's Bobby?" He looks around worriedly.

Harry chuckles wryly as he pulls out of the embrace and Sam pretends not to see the glint of tears in the wizard's eyes. "Bobby? He's been in the panic room."

As if on cue, Bobby calls irritably from inside, "If you've ruined my backyard, boy, I'll skin ya!"

The Winchesters and Harry look at each other before bursting out into laughter.

* * *

**The idea of Sam and Dean stumbling upon Harry fighting a Death Eater was wolfsrainrules's idea. I give you all the credit! Then somehow this turned into fluff and I had no complaints.**

**I hope you enjoyed it!**


	25. Reunion

**Reunion**

* * *

"Dude, c'mon," Dean calls from outside.

"What's the hurry?" Harry yells back.

"Just get out here, midget!" Grumbling goodnaturedly, Harry steps out of the motel room and freezes in his tracks when he sees the couple standing beside Dean.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione says warmly, her hands resting on the slight swell of her stomach that has clearly not been there long.

"Hey, mate," Ron adds his own greeting, grinning lopsidedly. Harry stands rooted to the spot, his mouth half-open in shock, and Sam shoves him forward from behind with a grin.

"Go on, Harry, say hi to your friends."

The wizard stumbles forward to close the gap between him and his friends, embracing Ron and Hermione with a shaky laugh. The two wrap their arms around his shoulders, drawing him into a group hug, and the three of them remain in that position for a very long time.

Dean circles around the hugging trio to join Sam, leaning against the doorway opposite his brother as Harry breaks out of his stupor long enough to begin asking questions rapidly, beaming widely as Hermione and Ron ask him questions of their own.

"How'd you get a hold of them?" Sam asks quietly.

"Sent one of those owls off with a letter of my own along with Harry's usual letter to them," Dean admits quietly. "The guy deserved to see his friends this close to Christmas."

The unspoken "_since it might be the last Christmas we have_" is shared with a simple glance between the brothers.

"Haven't seen him this happy in a long time," Sam notes.

"Yeah, I know." Dean nods. "It's a nice change."

Hermione begins fussing over Harry, straightening his glasses for him and flattening his hair, and Harry can't help but give the Winchesters a wide, grateful smile over her head, mouthing, "Thank you." His eyes are brighter than normal with unshed tears.

Sam and Dean smile back at their friend and mouth back, "Merry Christmas."

* * *

**Little holiday drabble for you all. I will probably write a Christmas-morning one closer to Christmas itself. I feel bad for not updating in a while, but finals snuck up on me and I recently created a roleplay blog for Gabriel on Tumblr. I promise I'll try to write some more oneshots, though :3. Hope you enjoyed this snippet!**


	26. Balloon

**Balloon**

* * *

As Harry ducks behind a table, he groans in complaint, earning an odd look from Dean and Sam.

How does he seriously end up in these situations?

Currently, they're in an abandoned hotel in Muncie, Indiana, hiding so that they don't get caught in the crossfire between Lucifer and the Hindu goddess Kali.

"You okay?" Sam asks Harry in concern and another new voice pipes up over Harry's shoulder, causing the wizard to start.

"Not really." Gabriel gives both Winchesters and Harry a sheepish smile. "Better late than never, right?" He shoves a DVD case at Harry. "Guard this with your life."

Harry takes one look at the case and balks. "_Really_, mate?!" He holds _Casa Erotica 13 _away from him like it's diseased. Dean happily accepts it from him instead.

"It was all I could come up with on short notice." Gabriel sulks. "Bite me." Harry raises an eyebrow. "Don't actually bite me!" Gabriel corrects quickly, wisely assuming that the wizard will take him literally.

Harry deflates, clearly having anticipated executing a good prank.

"Just do what I say when I give the signal," Gabriel says with one last scowl at them before ducking back around the table.

Harry and the Winchesters wait through the crashing and banging that follow afterwards.

"Luci, I'm home." Harry has to bite back a groan at the bad joke. "Not this time. Guys!" The three scramble out of their hiding spot. "Get her out of here!" Sam moves to help Kali up while Dean follows him out the door. Harry pauses in the doorway and nods to Gabriel, who subtly flicks his wrist.

Lucifer is promptly hit in the back of the head with a water-balloon. Dripping wet and furious, he wheels around to face Harry, who grins shamelessly and runs after the Winchesters.

When Lucifer looks back, Gabriel is gone, too.

Lucifer yells in rage.

* * *

Meanwhile, on a highway far away from Muncie, Indiana, Gabriel snaps the DVD in two and tosses the pieces over his shoulder.

"So why'd you want us to guard that, anyway?" Sam asks and Gabriel shrugs.

"In case I didn't make it." He's flattered when Sam looks horrified at the thought. "Good thing Harry had the idea of that water balloon as a distraction. What gave you that idea?" the archangel asks the wizard, who shrugs.

"Dunno. I just wanted to prank him."

"So I'm alive because of a prank?" Gabriel asks dumbly.

"You have to admit, that's irony for you," Sam points out with a smile.

Harry grins as well. "It was a good one, anyway. Did you see his face?" Gabriel has to grin back and high-fives Harry.

"Midgets," Dean grumbles as he gets back inside the Impala, Sam following with a weary chuckle.

* * *

**I can't kill Gabriel, guys, you can't make me. I just got back from seeing Les Miserables. Who else was in tears? Because I sure was. Anyway, I apologize for such a long wait, I'm just slowly running out of ideas for drabbles. I might focus on my other SPN story, Starting From Scratch, and get back to this one after giving it some time.**

**Happy holidays and happy New Year!**


	27. Baking

**Baking**

* * *

"Seriously, did Martha Stewart just spread some kind of cooking disease to you two?" Dean complains as he storms into Bobby's house after a supply run, greeted by the smell of chocolate drifting from the kitchen.

"Why're you groupin' me with the midget?" Bobby grumbles even as he wheels out of the kitchen to retreat into his study. Dean supposes they can lure him out later with the brownies currently baking away in the oven.

"And you're one to talk," Harry scolds as he peeks into the oven briefly to check on the brownies before closing the oven again. "It's not as if you don't enjoy eating the fruits of our labors."

"True," Dean concedes before gesturing to Sam. "You didn't have to infect _him_, though."

Sam looks as indignant as a six-foot-four man in a pink flowery apron can. "I was coerced against my will. Harry said he'd curse me if I didn't help him bake."

"Dude, you're like a foot taller than him. Just take his wand before he even tries." Sam blinks, as if he hadn't even considered that, before his expression turns mournful at his lost opportunity for freedom.

"My baking senses are tingling!" Gabriel appears on the counter. "Brownies?" he asks hopefully.

"Not yet. Here." Harry shoves a spoon still covered in brownie batter at Gabriel. "That ought to tide you over, you sugar-crazed nut."

"Pot. Kettle. Black." Gabriel pops the spoon into his mouth with a smirk at Harry, who glowers at him in return before retrieving another spoon to clean out the mixing bowl (and consequently eat the remnants of batter inside).

"Hey, you think we can get Cas to try some of this?" Dean asks as he swipes a finger through Harry's bowl, earning a whine of protest from the wizard even as he pops the batter-covered finger into his mouth.

"What, the brownies or the batter?" Sam asks amusedly as he tugs off the apron, hanging it on a hook near the door.

"Both," Gabriel and Dean answer in unison. They glare pointedly at each other for a moment before Dean subsides, letting Gabriel add, "It's a crime for someone to go without the joy of eating raw batter as well as the finished product."

Dean sends a short prayer to Castiel, which goes along the lines of_ "Cas, we have brownie batter and we can and will hunt you down to force-feed it to you unless you get your feathery ass over here."_ Soon enough, the trench-coated angel is standing in the kitchen, blinking at Dean bemusedly.

"Eloquent as ever, Dean," he says dryly. Harry obediently produces a spoon for Dean, which the older Winchester scrapes through the mixing bowl and holds in front of Castiel's face. Castiel blinks before taking the spoon and eating the batter without protest.

His blue eyes widen comically and Gabriel cackles triumphantly. Harry laughs and even Sam can't hide a chuckle at Castiel's reaction. Dean simply shoves his hands into his pockets, grinning.

"Good?"

Castiel looks as if he's about to agree vehemently and possibly demand more, but then his expression shifts into one of disapproval. "You shouldn't eat the batter. It contains raw eggs."

"Joykill," Gabriel groans as he hops off the counter. "Here I thought we'd converted him." He smirks. "Give him another spoonful, Dean-o!"

Castiel realizes that coming to Bobby's that day may have been a mistake when he sees the positively mischievous grin on Dean's face.

* * *

**There is no koala tea to be found in this chapter, sorry. I was on a cruise until a few days back and then college starts on Wednesday, so I thought I'd crank out another chapter before my life is taken over by schoolwork again. This chapter was inspired by the fact that I made brownies today. They were pretty damn good, for those who were wondering.**

**Hope you enjoy!**


	28. Piggyback

**Piggyback**

* * *

Give Dean some credit - he does try to help Bobby around while the older hunter's stuck in a wheelchair. Too bad Bobby grouches at him and threatens to shoot him full of rocksalt every time he so much as reaches for the wheelchair handles.

Luckily for Bobby, there are now two handicapped people in the house, Harry having sprained his ankle badly in a tussle with a particularly-cranky werewolf. The wizard, however, takes a different approach to his condition.

"Left, Sam!" he calls, ducking so that his head doesn't hit the top of the doorframe as Sam obediently turns. Harry digs his good foot into Sam's side, his arms tightening around Sam's shoulders. "No, your _other_ left!"

Sam huffs irritably as he follows the shorter man's orders while hoisting Harry further up against his back, shooting Dean a look that clearly screams "Help me" as he passes the older Winchester.

"Why're you even carrying him?" Dean asks as he does his best to suppress his laughter at Sam's plight. Even Bobby's lips are twitching as he buries his face into an old book to hide it.

"He couldn't figure out the crutches," Sam explains wearily, clearly now regretting his decision and grunting in pain as Harry kicks his side again.

"Besides, this is far more fun," the bespectacled man adds, grinning. "I don't think I've ever been this high up before." He pets Sam's hair as one would a dog or a horse.

Sam drops him unceremoniously on the couch in response.

"Lay off the pie, Potter, you're getting heavy."

Harry gasps in mock-outrage. "Not eat _pie_?! How _dare_ you?!"

"The scandal," Dean agrees solemnly, earning a whack upside the head from his loving brother for his efforts.

"Y'know, I think I like Bobby's way of handling immobility better," Sam grumbles as he sinks on the couch, rubbing his aching back.

Bobby raises a glass of whiskey in Sam's direction in a mock-toast. "Hear, hear."

Harry only pouts in response.

* * *

**Little short one so that you know I'm still alive. College is killing me, so my updates will be very slow until at least April or May. This muse refused to leave my head because imagine tiny Harry, even though he's older than Sam, being carried on the giant's shoulders. It makes me giggle :).**

**I also have this weird idea for a story that's probably been overdone: someone falling from our world into the Supernatural one. Obviously, it would be my own take on it, but the muse refuses to leave me alone. Your thoughts?**

**Hope you enjoyed this drabble!**


	29. Nightmare

**Nightmare  
**

* * *

Harry doesn't dream often; his nights are often interrupted by Sam or Dean tossing a duffel bag at his chest and yelling at him to "get moving, Potter, we've gotta go." Usually, it's some demon or angel after them, so Harry can understand why the Winchesters are always on the move.

Still, there are some nights where Harry manages to catch a few hours of steady sleep, and those nights are when the nightmares come creeping in. They used to be the Battle of Hogwarts, of his friends and family dying bloody - Merlin, he can still see Remus and Tonks lying serenely side by side sometimes - but lately, he's been seeing something far more terrible.

_"Welcome back, Harry." His doppelganger tilts his head, his expression so calm that Harry wants to grab Dean's shotgun and blast the smirk off his face. "What's the matter? Didn't you miss me?"_

_"Not one bit," Harry snarls back, his jaw clenched._

_"Shame, seeing as you'll _be_ me one day." The other Harry blinks and his green eyes, which so many people have told Harry remind them of his mother's, slide into an inky black. Harry swallows back the bile that rises in his throat._

_"I'm never going to be you."_

_"That's where you're wrong, Harry. You've killed people. Whether your intentions are good or not, there's only one place you go after that." The demon points downwards with a low chuckle. "I wonder how long you'll last on the rack. Not long. I mean, you're no Dean Winchester, after all, and Dean only lasted a measly forty years. How much torture do you think you can take, Potter? Five minutes? Ten?"_

_"SHUT UP!" Harry whips out his wand, but it goes flying out of his hand with a casual flick of his demon counterpart's wrist. "You're not real," Harry insists, backing up against the wall as the other Harry steps towards him, cracking his neck absently._

_"Oh, I'm real, Harry. I'm _you_." The demon's hand shoots out, slamming Harry back against the wall as his fingers wrap around Harry's throat and squeeze. Harry chokes and gasps, struggling for breath. "Soon enough, you'll see that. And you'll give in to the inevitable truth."_

_"No," Harry croaks weakly, "No...no, _please_..."_

"Harry!"

_"Everything you are, everything you've done...it will lead to this."_

"Harry, wake up!"

_"NO!"_

"HARRY!" He jolts awake, nearly colliding with Dean's forehead, and catches himself in time. He's shaking, and Dean is rubbing his shoulders gently. "You okay, dude? You were, uh...making some pretty unhappy noises."

Harry can make out Sam's blurry figure hovering over Dean's shoulder worriedly as he swallows and answers, "I'm all right. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"Hey. We've been there." Dean pats Harry's shoulder before getting up, moving back to the motel bed.

Sam hesitates. "You can tell us, y'know, if something's bothering you."

"I know." Harry forces a smile. "I'm fine." Sam nods reluctantly and goes back to bed. Harry lies back on the couch, but sleep refuses to find him again. He gets up and goes to the bathroom, hoping some cold water to the face will at least get rid of the drying sweat on his face. He splashes the water onto his face and grabs a towel to dry off. When he looks up at his reflection in the smudged mirror as he pulls the towel away from his face, his heart nearly stops, but then settles back to its normal rhythm.

He could have sworn, for a moment, that his eyes had flickered black.

* * *

**My roommate comes up with strange and brilliant ideas. I'm honestly considering ending this story soon, because quite frankly, I'm running out of ideas and I feel like stretching this out for too long would result in bored readers and a desperate me as I scramble for ideas.**

**I might come up with a few more chapters once the school year is over in May, but I really don't know. I hope you enjoy this chapter in the meantime as I crawl my way through finals!**


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